Page 270 of Of Empires and Dust

“Hmmm.” There was something in Chora’s voice that told Ella the woman wasn’t lying, but Ella wasn’t in the mood to admit that.

“You remind me of your mother.” Therin had walked around and now stood at Ella’s right shoulder.

“What did you know of my mother?”

“That will require a little more time than we have here. We can talk on it tonight. There is a lot you don’t know.”

“So everyone keeps telling me, but then they rarely tell me the things I don’t know.”

Therin chuckled, stroking at his chin. “You have that same fire in you.”

“What do we know of this Aryana Torval?” Chora interrupted, eying Ella askance as she spoke. Ella got the feeling the woman wasn’t used to being on the other end of a chastisement.

“Very little, I’m afraid,” Therin answered. “From the reports she’s fierce, forthright, and brazen. She leads from the front, and she’s already won her fair share of victories. Against Lorians, Uraks, and other factions. She and Castor Kai together command as many swords as the other factions combined, followed by Tukul Unger. And there is no love lost between them.”

The High Lord of Illyanara had arrived the night before last, along with an escort of some fifty riders. From what Ella had gathered, the man had been presumed dead following the razingof Argona. His irritation at travelling so far only to find Calen absent had been clear, which had set Chora off on her tirade.

Footsteps slapped against stone, and Ella peered over the plateau’s parapet to see a young man in a dark purple tunic with the sigil of the white dragon stitched into the left breast come bounding up the path. He stopped at the entrance to the plateau, exchanging words with the Highguard stationed there, then sprinted through to face Ella and the others.

The young man dragged in long breaths, sweat glistening on his brow. He looked from Chora to Therin and then to Ella, clearly unsure who to address.

“Out with it then.” Chora rolled her hand in the air, gesturing for the young man to speak.

“Commander Gaeleron approaches with Aryana Torval and her retinue, my lords.” The young man couldn’t have seen any more than fifteen summers, his face bright and innocent, his eyes panicked. When Ella was fifteen, she’d spent her time helping her mother pick berries and herbs and whatever else was needed. She’d drunk mead in The Gilded Dragon and danced until the moon and the sun traded places. She’d been happy, and life had been simple. She pitied him.

“Very good.” Chora smiled and nodded, her earlier irritation seeming to vanish in an instant. “You did well, Joen. Please wait over there in case you are needed. There’ll be extra sweetcakes waiting for you at supper.”

“Yes… Rakina.” Joen nodded, his mind still clearly mulling over as to whether he had used the correct honorific or not. The word ‘Rakina’ only ever reminded Ella of Farda… of how he had described what it was to lose his dragon, Shinyara.“Everything lost meaning after Shinyara died… and with her she took my pain, my love, and my happiness…”

She hated how those words pulled at her heart. He had no right to her sadness, no right to her pity.

Not long after, a procession marched up the long path around the plateau, banners raised and flapping. Ten warriors in bright steel plate with Calen’s sigil on their chests and purple cloaks on their backs marched at the front and fanned out to the left and right.

Those were followed by twice that number of Aravell Highguard with long glaives in their fists, armoured in silver plate with green cloaks emblazoned with three white trees.

Next came Gaeleron and the city’s steward, Halmír.

A woman walked at their side, five men behind her in dark leathers with what looked to be some kind of four-legged eagle painted in white and red across their chests. Was that what a gryphon looked like? Ella had never seen one of the creatures, but she’d heard a few stories.

The woman, who Ella assumed was Aryana Torval, was far younger than Ella had anticipated. Perhaps a similar age to Ella herself. Two long scars ran horizontally across her neck – claw marks by the looks of them – and her nose was just as broken as Ella’s.

Halmír stepped forwards and delivered the same over the top introduction he had given upon the arrival of each faction leader, but one that paled in comparison to what she knew the Ephorí would give once Aryana was introduced to Uthrían and Galdra.

“May I also introduce you to Chora Sarn, representative of the Rakina present here in Aravell. Ella Bryer, kin of the Draleid, Calen Bryer, and his representative in his stead.”

Halmír once again refrained from even mentioning Therin’s existence. There was a noticeable coldness between Therin and essentially every other elf in the city with few exceptions. She supposed she would add the ‘why’ of that to the list of questions she would ask him that night.

When Halmír was finished spewing excessive pleasantries, one of the men bearing the white gryphon emblem began tointroduce Aryana, but the woman raised a hand and took a step towards Therin.

“And who, may I ask, are you?” Her voice was soft as silk. “It seems you are the only one here without a name, and so I will make an exchange. Mine for yours.”

Therin smiled at that. “A fine deal. I am Therin Eiltris, bard.”

“Bard? You must be the most skilled bard in all Epheria to be standing here.” Aryana laughed, shaking her head. In those brief seconds, Aryana Torval had impressed Ella to no end. The woman had an aura about her, and she seemed entirely unfazed by her surroundings. Likely she’d grown up much as Ella had, and now she stood in the city of Aravell, surrounded by elves and warriors quite literally plucked from legend, and she spoke to them as though they all stood in the common room of The Gilded Dragon.

“I know some stories,” Therin said, placing one arm across his stomach and bowing.

“I’m sure you do. Well, Therin Eiltris, bard, my name is Aryana Torval.” She looked over to Halmír and the Ephorí. “I am the daughter of a dead man and a fearless woman. My people trust me to lead, and so I do. I am here because I was invited by Aeson Virandr to discuss terms on how we might work together to rid the South of the Lorians once and for all. I was also told that the Draleid we have all heard so many tales of flies in support of Aeson’s rebellion. And yet, now that I am here, I see neither of their faces. Or do they hide amongst you?” She raised an eyebrow at Therin. “Another pair with no names?”

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